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“This is not a social call,” I said. “How long does a woman’s flow last?”

She looked uncertainly at her husband, then answered me in a low tone.

“Four. . .four or five days, my lord. Maybe six or seven.”

“What about ten?” I demanded. “Ten days?”

“Not usually,” she replied, looking flustered and embarrassed.

“Indeed,” I returned. “I bid you good day,” I threw back over my shoulder as I stalked out of the room again, my mind filled with what I was going to do to my disobedient wife.

“Will we see you at Sunday service sometime soon?” Mr. Elton called after me. “It would set an excellent example for the townspeople, my lord.”

“Would you really want the devil to come to church?” I shot back at him.

“The best place for him,” Mr. Elton returned, with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

“You may regret that,” I snarled, slamming the door behind me.

I rode back to Rosewood Manor in a towering temper, and the sun slanting across the endless rolling lawns of the manor gave me no pleasure.

As I neared the manor, I saw Catherine in the garden. My wife was bending over and picking a few roses, looking carefully at each one to get the perfect flower, a pair of small garden clippers in her hand. She was wearing a delicate sprigged muslin gown, heavy long coils of her hair twisted up, with only the tiniest curls escaping against her creamy throat.

I spurred my horse, and as she turned around in surprise, I reached one hand and plucked her bodily up, setting her in front of me on the saddle.

“What are you doing, St. Erth?” she shrieked.

But I ignored her and grabbed harshly at her cunt, feeling the strings of the guard-napkin she wore, my fingers gripping her as tightly as I could with all these goddamn layers of shifts and petticoats.

“10 daysof your monthly flow?” I growled in her ear. “Do you take me for a fool?”

She sucked in her breath sharply, then suddenly pitched to the other side as if she was going to throw herself from the horse.

I had to swing myself halfway out of the saddle to grab her, holding her tight with one hand and the pommel with the other.

“Why do I have no time for anything but disciplining you?” I seethed, biting her on the ear because I didn’t have a hand free.

She yelped, and stabbed back at me with her little gardening clippers. They sliced through my breeches, but I didn’t let go.

“Claw me all you like,” I growled, pulling at her ear and yanking at her hair. “I’m not letting you go.”

Once we arrived, I dismounted hastily, throwing the reins at Liversedge, and stalked inside, dragging Catherine by the collar.

“You were so sweet and quiet when I married you,” I gritted out at her as I dragged her down to the hallway.

She only kicked out harder at me, slashing out with the gardening clippers until I ripped them away from her. The wedding band on her splayed fingers made my stomach clench with an angry need.

I didn’t think I could make it upstairs, so I kicked open the library door and slammed it behind me.

Catherine I bent face first over the table, giving her thighs and calves little licks with the riding crop.

I gathered all her skirts up in one angry hand as she wriggled in my arms.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

I pressed harder with my hips and ripped off the guard-napkin, the strings snapping harshly. Then I plunged my fingers into her cunt, rending her undergarments in the process.

Godsblood, this cunt was tight and wet.